


cast thee no shadows and i'll tell you no lies

by elebuu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV) - Freeform, F/M, Sexual Tension, Summoner WoL, grad school makes a tired, i wanted this to go somewhere much naughtier but my brain cell burned out, i wrote this a few weeks ago and hated it but now i don't remember why i thought it was bad, im not ready for 4.5 but i was born ready for 4.5, sometimes it be like that, will i regret shipping this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elebuu/pseuds/elebuu
Summary: (( ........paltry though it seems in comparison to Allag. ))





	cast thee no shadows and i'll tell you no lies

“You’ve a fine mind,” he murmured, his sardonic growl curtailed. “Learned as well. Arcanima is no discipline for the faint of wit.” The words were chosen carefully, so carefully, in a timbre that slowed his pitch to the laboured pluck of strings over dark wood. 

She did not waver. The cover of Dark over her changed naught about the ferocity in those eyes; eyes that defied him, scorching. Eyes that  **hated** him. Ahh. One could snuff a candle, surely, but what was a snuff to the vestal inferno of Hydaelyn’s beloved daughter? 

Solus stepped quietly forward. Quietly, because the clatter of his thorned soles failed to stymie her courage, so why not approach as one does a mirage? No matter. He could break certain rules as he wished them; he could choke a moonbeam in his grasp. Wordlessly, he took hold of her chin with a thumb and forefinger, lifting her face to him. He had to bend like a dying willow to make her eye level, even as the sweet and pliant flesh of her thrummed against the force of his fingers. 

The look she gave him was still enough to strip the sinew from his bones.

He let his head fall to the side, inquisitively, the links of his single earring chattering in their dulcet metal voices as they swung by the pearlised bead. Like the legendary beast whose ghostly visage informed smallfolken tales of the purity of the soul, the crown at her forehead arced toward the heavens. Caller, channeler; slumberer and waker of furious souls, the ministrations of Old Allag were reflected in the silver whorls of the instrument she wore. 

“I asked for a warrior,” he said, barely above a breath, “and they sent me a **witch**.” 

That got her to blink, the dream in the depths paused for effect. 

“Ah… Witch of Allag,” he sighed, his expression fading into something much, much harder to read. 

“I could show you things.

**Wondrous** things. Aught that ever you would wish to know… and everything after that.” 

She made to protest, and his grip pressed in response into the planes of her jaw. 

“I shall make no attempt here to insinuate such maudlin pre-cognitions as ‘you and I are one and the same’.” He paused for effect, narrowing his eyes to slits of seeping amber, shaded by long, dark lashes. “It is really rather to the point that we are not.”

“And for what purpose do you bother toying with me,  **Ascian**?”, the Warrior hissed, fighting his grip to snarl at him. 

“’Toying’? Oh, no, no, dear Warrior. I would have you as mine equal.” The smile crawled back over his wine-dark lips. He thought almost that the skin of his forearm was cracking, roasting away under the caustic, searing bitterness in those eyes. 

Put to the torch by Beauty. A worthy ending.

And then, of course, he could come back for more. 

But that was not the effect, in reality, in any case. 

“Allow me to rephrase,” she continued, shuddering in a tone just a touch of propulsion shy of spitting at him. “You’ve taken everything from me. My friends… my home… my Mother’s own voice. What else could you possibly wish of me?” 

No attempt to lunge at him, not even the paltry insult of ‘monster’ or ‘blackheart’ or ‘fiend’. Well, then, if they were to skip the formalities…

Solus freed her from his grasp, closing the distance with a pace that brought her to his chest, where she would hear his answer as it rolled from the barrel of his ribs. 

“I would have you embrace me… as mine.” 

Against his predictions, she sank into the rich fabric of his raiment. In a gesture too gentle for a monster, he cupped at the side of her head, drawing her nearer, the hand sliding to hold behind her. The gaze was gone, the fire guttered.

Or–so it seemed, until she allowed him to kiss her, and her sweet, hot mouth opened in hunger for him.   

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember why I hated this when I first wrote it but maybe it's okay. Take it like an appetiser. Or a teaser. Or the fic equivalent of disappointingly bland vending-machine sugar biscuits.


End file.
